Vessel of Blood
by stargwynn
Summary: A group of Vampires is out for blood, of course. But why do they want the blood of a "Vessel?"  Excerpt: the rings scored into his flesh began to glow with a white light, tinted red through the blood. Sam watched in horror as Dean's back arched violently
1. Chapter 1

"Has the word been sent out?"  
>"Yes, sir. The Winchester's should be arriving shortly."<br>"Excellent. Remember, they are mine. Any feasting is reserved for me. Your orders are to capture...ALIVE and blood still pumping fresh."  
>As the vampire underling exited the premises, the man referred to as "sir" shuddered in disgust. He despised working with the spawn of evil, but knew it to be necessary to carry out his plan.<p>

Word of a nest of Vampires reached the hunter-duo a couple of states over. Seeing as they were on the east coast, that was only a few hours drive. These piddly eastern states could be crossed in any direction in a matter of hours, and before long they were nearing their destination...the border of Vermont and New Hampshire.

Looking out at the desolate, late autumn scenery, Dean grew weary and addressed the brooding tower of silence seated next to him,  
>"Man, I tell you, there is nothing out here but potheads and wannabe hippies." Dean attempted to lighten the mood. Recently, tension had been building about the whole demonic-psychic child destiny thing.<br>"And don't forget the nest of vampires tripping out on human blood." Sam rebuffed.  
>Dean cleared his throat awkwardly and grunted almost inaudibly, "Yeah. And that." After a few moments Dean tried again,<br>"Well at least its a clear, straight-shot monster job, right? No more demon destiny crap." Dean hazarded a glance over at his brother to ascertain his reaction.  
>"Yeah. There's that." Sam consented unenthusiastically. "Well, don't go catywumpus on me, Sammy."<br>"Catywumpus?" Sam raised an eyebrow part critically, part amusedly. Dean fought back a half-mouthed grin. He got the reaction he wanted.  
>"Yeah, you know...what? I learned it when I was down south. The yokels used it all the time." Sam couldn't help but pick up on the humour in his brother's tone, and fall in with the light-hearted banter. Little did the brothers know how quickly the tone would change.<p>

_The trap was set, and the peices in place, now he had only to wait for his prey._

The hunters made their way to the warehouse. All signs pointed it out as the blood suckers nesting place. It was an ideal locale for it, to be sure. It connected to many dark alleyways throughout the densely-populated (for Vermont) inner city. For the hunters, it was a blessing and a curse because whereas they could sneak up virtually undetected, so could an attacker, quickly switching their roles from hunters to hunted.

All senses on high-alert, Dean crept along one wall, leading the way, while Sam followed behind, crouched in the darkness on the other wall of the narrow alley. Dean looked back to check on his brother, who was stifling a cry of disgust when his hand discovered something wet and slimy on the darkened cement blocks that made up the wall of the building enclosing the alleyway. Dean allowed himself a momentary grin, but in that moment something jumped at him from ahead, knocking him flat on his back, as the super-strong creature landed on all fours, animal-like, on top of him, fangs bared and ready to plunge into his neck.  
>Caught completely off-guard, Dean let out a cry, just as Sam flailed his blade at another encroaching monster taking advantage of the breached line of defense. Hearing his brother's cry of distress, Sam made quick work of the vampire before him and rushed to Dean's aid. Dean was grappling with his attacker arm to arm on the ground, with the vampire atop him, mouth plunging and snapping trying to gain access to his life-source.<br>Sam swung at the monter's head, and it dodged the strike, and turned its attention away from Dean. Taking advantage of the situation and recovering his own blade from the ground beside him, he decapitated the thing then and there, quickly moving aside as the headless corpse made its bloody descent to the ground. The brothers' eyes met and shared mutual looks of wonder and relief. It was then that they heard it. Dozens of beings breathing in the dark.

A/N: This is my first Supernatural fanfic. I always wait to write in a fandom until I feel I know the characters and the world well enough. If you're reading and you like, give me the go to keep it up, tell me what I'm doing right and you want more of, or if you don't like, lemme know what I'm messing up. Thanks!


	2. Chapter 2

The Winchesters looked up and saw several figures outlined against the sky. One of them started speaking in an impossibly loud voice, so that, even though he was standing on the rooftop of the building, those below in the alley could hear.

"Bring him to the Chamber" the head vampire said, pointing to Dean. "The tall one will accompany me." Within seconds, several of the vampires jumped from the rooftop and landed next to the hunters, and after a shared look between the brothers, were disarmed without a struggle. There are too many of them, the look imparted.

As they were lead in seperate directions, the boys' minds were uneasy. I mean sure, on any given day it was a bad thing to be caught by a nest of vamps, but what was the game? They didn't drain them dry on the spot, so maybe they wanted to turn them? But then why the seperation? Things didn't add up. Vamps acting like vamps was standard on a job, but this was not a vampire's MO, and that's what made the brother's uneasy. That and the whole being split up thing. Maybe they were too co-dependent, after all. Dean didn't like the looks of that head vamp Sam was going with, he just looked off, somehow. Even off for a vampire. He also didn't like the sound of this "Chamber" he was being led to.

"So, you gonna tell me why I'm here, and what you've done with my brother?"

"Sam, Sam. You are here to watch my plans come to fruition. And indeed, I couldn't have done it without you. Oh, I haven't done anything to your brother...yet...but you will soon see what I have in store for him. He is crucial."

"What are you talking about? What plans? You're a vampire, you drink blood, and either kill people or turn them."

"Oh, no, Sam, you quite mistake me. And my ends. Its all much more interesting than that." As he said this, the head vampire not so much morphed, but more accurately Sam's eyes began to see differently, and he was aware that the being standing before him was a human, not a vampire.

"How did you?" Sam rubbed his eyes confusedly..."what are...?"

"I'm you, Sam, only better. The yellow-eyed demon may have had monster plans for you, but I have my own destiny, a better one. One that doesn't turn me into a monster. Fate's a bitch, sometimes, isn't it? I'm turning around the plans the yellow-eyed demon had right back on him. And you, while doing disgusting things in the dark with that demon chic, have enabled me to turn it all around for the good."  
>Sam still didn't have a clue what was going on...and what was he monologuing about? Must be delu...<p>

"No, Sam, I'm not suffering from delusions of grandeur. And, yes I can read minds, change them, make them see what I want them to see."

"So that's why the vampires are following you instead of having you for an appetizer. You have demon powers."

" My powers do not come from a demonic source, Sam. Quite the contrary. Try angelic."

Dean found himself in the "chamber". The walls were made of cement block painted white, but they were peeling, scattering the walls with gray scratches. Dean squinted, examining it more closely from his restraints. The scratches were not random. They formed signs. Angel symbols, if he remembered right. He couldn't remember the bizzare name Sam called them. Vamps seeking protection from angels? They knew he was, then. But what did a bunch of vamps care about his destiny? Weren't they just out for blood?

Dean had been alone for a good ten minutes now, and he didn't like the scenery. The only furniture looked to be used for nefarious purposes. Leather restraints and buckles on beds and chairs, and something that looked like an electric chair...and was that a RACK in the corner? Try as he might, he couldn't get his breathing under control. C'mon, Dean, don't be such a wuss, he told himself. But who was he fooling? He knew in his gut...oh, don't say gut!...that torture was something that didn't grow on you...40 years experience hadn't hardened him to it...quite the opposite.

His thoughts were interrupted by the opening of the doors.


	3. Chapter 3

The doors opened to reveal a single vampire. She must have been a newborn, for she quaked and shook like a leaf, and, as Dean was about to discover, though weak from not feeding, charged with the need for blood. She was such a little thing. Couldn't have been much older than 16.

Dean assessed his situation. His wrists were in leather bonds attached to chains strapped to a ceiling beam. He was just able to touch his toes to the ground, so he didn't have much space to maneuver or defend himself. The vampire watched Dean's every motion, though, it seemed she more smelt, heard and felt his blood pumping than actually watched him.  
>"Hey, honey...I'm guessing you've never done this before, am I right?" Dean said uncertainly, vainly hoping to connect with her.<br>She glanced at his face for a second, understanding flitting before her eyes, before being replaced by burning blood-lust as she charged toward him with uncanny speed.  
>Dean braced himself as she plunged her fangs into his neck, immediately teeth siezed upon his main artery, and began sucking. It wasn't so much the initial bite, though that hurt like hell, that made him yell out, it was the feeling of his blood violently being drained from his body, it was the sickening sounds of her feasting echoing in his ear. He'd been bit before, but never feasted on. There was nothing he could do. He was helpless. And his life-blood was being drained.<p>

"That'll do, Claire." Came the voice of the head vampire.

"Dean!" Sam yelled in panic, the moment he entered and saw what was taking place.

The girl removed her fangs from his flesh. Dean snarled in pain as she backed away, blood dripping from her mouth. Dean looked up at the head vamp. He couldn't believe that a newly turned vamp would so easily stop her feeding. It was then that he realized that the man who entered was just that, a man, and that Sam was with him, with a guard on either side of him.

Blood was still gushing from Dean's neck, the artery torn open. "You must save some for me, Claire." Seeing the blood seeping out of Dean, he added, "Can't let that go to waste. We must hurry." He stepped over to a table facing the wall...it was an altar, Sam thought. A few bursts of flame and incantations later, the lights started flickering and a light descended upon the room, and then Dean heard that all-too familiar ringing sound. Then the angel appeared. His hair was dark, and even longer than Sammy's. His eyes were a cold blue, and he turned their steel gaze upon Dean.

"Michael's vessel." The angel stated.

"Yes, Falcor."

"You have done well Jeffrey." Falcor then strode over to Dean and and touched his mauled neck. Dean winced, but a moment later, the wound was gone. The only tell-tale sign left were spatterings of blood on his faded green jacket.

"I have gathered everything you commanded." Jeffrey said. "All is prepared for the ritual."

"What the hell is going on here!" Dean belted out angrily. Now that blood wasn't gushing out he was about ready for some answers.

"Yeah! You've got a lot of nerve treating Michael's sword like this!" Sam exploded, trying to strike fear into the angel.

"Not to mention Dean Winchester." Dean chimed in irritably. He knew what Sam was trying to do, but he was fed up with being lumped together with Michael, as if he didn't have his own identity.

"I will not hear the demon-boy speak. He is a perversion." Falcor said icily.

"Hey! That's my brother you're talking about!" Dean interjected.

"No, you are right, _Dean. _Without him I would never have been able to accomplish this." Dean didn't like the way the angel said his name. It sounded more like a threat than an acknowledgement.

"How?" Sam asked. The eyes of the angel darted to the speaker, wrath boiling just beneath the surface. But he chose to answer.

"The drinking of demon blood. It gives you power. However, as I'm sure you've realized, not enough to "ice the devil" as you put it. For how could it? Lucifer himself made the demons, so how could something he made destroy himself? But, Dean, here. He's something special. Destined to destroy Satan himself. Dean's blood is special because he is Michael's vessel. If you remember, John Winchester played host to Michael once, before you were born. He passed on an angelic marker in your blood, Dean. Only you have it. So, you see if you want to defeat Lucifer, its not enough to drink demon blood...Jeffrey must drink of that which is destined to battle with the devil."

Dean blinked a few times, trying to take it all in. "Even if all this is true, which i doubt, why not just let Michael have at it? He's your Angelic General, or whatever."

"Because Dean, first of all, I don't need your consent to take your blood. Its easy. Second, I have my own plans for what happens after the Final Battle, and they don't include Michael."

"That right? A little power-hungry are we, Falcor? What the heck kind of name is that, anyway, huh?"

The angel gave out a chuckle that seemed to vibrate throughout the room. "Always so macho, aren't you Dean? You have more in common with Michael than you like to think."

"Yeah, we were a match made in heaven." Dean spouted acridly.

"Enough of this. Begin." Falcor's face had turned red from fury. He'd had it with this human.

The domicile vampires strapped Dean to a curious-looking wooden table, which was also an altar, with angelic markings spread all over its surface. They then tore his shirt off.

Dean struggled desperately, but hopelessly against his restraints, and the guards, breathing heavily, he said to no one in particular as he frantically darted his eyes from left to right, "Moving a little fast for a first date, don't you think?"

Sam had attempted to help his brother, but Falcor had immobolized him, so that he had no choice but to stand and watch.

Falcor handed Jeffrey a curious looking knife, made for the occasion, no doubt, Dean thought morbidly.

In the coming minutes, Dean would get a much closer look at the knife than he cared for.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Thank you for all the favorites and alerts. Its really good to know the story is appreciated. Feel free to leave your thoughts...they are much appreciated! :)**

Jeffrey approached the table with determined steps. As he raised the knife above Dean, a ray of the early morning sun glinted off its blade, revealing it to be a strange melding of angel and demon workmanship. Talk about a perversion.

The knife's edge cut into his flesh, making specific signs on his chest and torso. The blade was sharp enough to do its work, but still dull enough to make its path through his flesh slightly rough and jagged. Deans lips crushed together, attempting to stifle the groans escaping his throat. The cuts themselves were what he liked to call flesh wounds, though most physicians would disagree. Once the symbol of circles was completed, Dean and Sam simultaneously let out a sigh. But just then, the rings scored into his flesh began to glow with a white light, tinted red through the blood. Sam watched in horror as Dean's back arched violently, and his whole body shuddered in agony. Then it came. Sam had never before heard such a sound come from his brother. Screams ripped from Dean's throat, seemingly emanating from the depth of his being. Nothing could describe the sensation. It surpassed the senses of the body, for he felt the burn of the symbols not only in his bones and in his blood, but in his being.

"What's happening? Make it stop!" Sam pleaded, tears coming unbidden to his eyes. A loud buzzing descended upon the room, originating from the light searing from Dean's chest, onto Dean's soul , forcing Sam to cover his ears with his hands.

Minutes passes like hours as the light and the noise escalated to its peak. As quickly as it had come, the light dissapated, leaving Dean senseless on the table.

* * *

><p>Something was seriously wrong. Castiel felt it in his every fibre. He clasped his head with both hands as images and impressions were relayed to his inner mind with great intensity. Something was askew with the angelic realm, and, Cas had a gut feeling somthing was not right with Dean. Angels and Dean were two things Cas could sense. Dean attributed Cas's seeming second sight into his whereabouts and situation to a special bond. While this was partially true, Cas had always refrained from disclosing another peice of information. Angelic blood ran through Dean's veins, making him not an angel, but a human being unlike any other. Because of this, Cas was hyper-aware of Dean's state. However, something was blocking his perception. But, he knew where that blockade was originating, and guessed that was where this disturbance, and hopefully Dean, could be found.<p>

* * *

><p>"Dean! Come on, man." Sam started off strong, but his words ended as a whimper. After the climax of the ritual, Jeffrey and Falcor exited the Chamber, allowing Sam to move freely once more. He rushed to his insensate brother's side, afraid to touch his too-still form...afraid of what he would feel beneath his hands. When he put his hands on Dean's shoulders, he was struck again by his body's stillness. Though temperature still normal to the touch, it seemed as though all life had ceased in the flesh under his hands. Was there any pulse at all?<p> 


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Thank you for the positive response, reviews and a big thank you to LastingDream, for adding this story to her Angel Community...lots of upcoming angel action-I will endeavor to not dissapoint :)**

Sam had remained crouched at the infamous "altar". His eyes hadn't left Dean's prostrate form for a long time. He couldn't even think of attempting an escape. He would not leave Dean. Now he knelt, elbows leaning on the face of the table, head in hands, as though he was praying before the cursed thing. Truthfully, he was, in his own way; praying for Dean to awaken.

A banging door startled Sam out of his reverie, and before he knew it a very pissed off Falcor was standing at the fore of the altar, by Deans head, and Jeffrey was shoving Sam aside.

"Unforseen events have neccessitated us to hasten the process." Falcor stated, flustered.

Jeffrey looked up, surprised. "But its too soon after the ritual to begin. The vessel has not even regained consciousness."

"Yes, I understand its risky. But it is a hazard we are forced to face."

"What are you going to do, now?" Sam said brokenly, although he felt hope enter the fringes of his spirit at the fact that they were being hurried. Someone was coming for them then. However, that hope was immediately dashed when he reallized that it also put Dean in further danger from their haste.

"I grow weary of the sound of your voice, Demon-boy. Remember, the only reason you are here is to satisfy my pleasure for the melodramatic at the conclusion of this plan, long in the making, as well as to aid in its final stage."

"I will never help you." Sam countered.

"You may not think so now, but I know better." Falcor said haughtily. Despite his previous comments for the need of haste, he sure was taking his time.

Jeffrey had retrieved a large chalice from the side altar while Falcor reached out and touched a finger to dean's forehead, a white light transferring from one to the other. Instantly, Dean took in a huge breath and opened his eyes wide, then he laid back, eyes flitting around the room in confusion.

"What the hell was that!" Dean tried shouting, but it came out in peices, separated by intakes and hitches of breath.

"The preparation ritual." Jeffrey answered.

"Preparation for what?" Sam supplied the question Dean wanted, but was struggling to ask.

In response, Falcor whipped out the detested knife, while Jeffrey followed its descent to Dean's arm with the chalice. The knife cut lengthwise down the arm, from elbow to wrist, a red river of blood streaming into the chalice below. It seemed to take years for the large chalice to fill. Finally, Jeffrey cupped the bowl of the chalice in both hands, regarding it sacredly, he raised the precious liquid to his lips, and didn't stop until it was drained.

Dean watched from partially lidded eyes, and mumbled weakly, "The next time you wanna say grace before a meal, couldn't you just stick to "bless us o lord"?

Sam looked at his brother with unbelieving eyes. How did Dean do that? He just saw a human being drinking his own blood, gotten by vile and forceful means, and he still managed to crack a lame, sacreligious joke?

Ignoring the remark, Falcor looked up expectantly. "All is going as planned." He smirked, and his eyes lit up with an unholy fire.

Reaching the ears of those present was the familiar sound of a ruffling trenchcoat.


	6. Chapter 6

There could not have been a more welcome sight than the holy tax accountant. Castiel's first action was to look for Dean. The angel's gaze locked eyes with him intensely. Dean's gaze was fading, but his mouth still turned up into a quirky grin at the recognition. A puddle of blood was forming on the floor, the red river trickling off the edge of the table from his arm.

Jeffrey turned worriedly to Falcor, only to find he had already dissappeared.

"Fine" he stated proudly, "I can deal with this myself." He then held out his hand in Castiel's direction, his eyes glowing white. Cas found himself flown against the wall of the Chamber, temporarily stunned. Just then two demons entered the room. What was this? A freaking parade? Sam caught the angel blade Cas tossed to him, and rushed toward the demons before they could get their hands on Dean.

Dean tried to maintain focus as this all went down, but he was fading fast from loss of blood. Intermittently as his vision blurred, he saw Jeffrey approaching Cas, and raise him to the ceiling. Cas struggled to breath as the intangible force crushed the air out of his lungs, or rather Jimmy's lungs. However, whatever this power was, it cut off the angel's own life force as well.

Sam, having killed the demons, rushed over to the scene, mouth bloodied by his unholy gorge. Cas looked down in horror at the younger Winchester, seeing his eyes go black. Sam attempted to crush Jeffrey as he closed his hand into a fist. Nothing happened. Jeffrey laughed maniacally.

"You have no power over me, demon!" He screamed as he flung Sam to the side. The man had turned manic with power as Dean's blood coursed through his veins.

Just when it seemed all was lost, the light in Jeffrey's eyes flitted out, and Cas came crashing down to the floor. Jeffrey scrambled over to where Dean lay, semi-concious, on the table. He lowered his mouth to Dean's arm, where the source of his power bubbled up, flowing over his lips and down his throat. Sam regained his stance and flung Jeffrey away from his brother. The sight of the man gorging on his brother had at first turned his stomach, then turned to horror and rage. With murderous eyes Sam approached the fallen enemy.

"Quickly! We must get out of here." Cas gasped as he picked himself off the floor. It was only then that Sam realized that the symbols on the wall had started glowing.

Cas ripped a peice of his coat and begam binding Dean's arm while explaining, "When you drank the demon blood and used your powers, you set off a trigger in this room that sent out a call to Lucifer." Then it dawned on Sam. Falcor wanted to use Sam as a beacon to Lucifer so that Jeffrey could destroy him. But what had gone wrong? Jeffrey hadn't consumed enough blood to sustain his powers?

A devious laugh rose from the heap on the floor. "You see?" Jeffrey laughed. "You have no choice but to help us now. You will let me get my filll so that I can destroy Lucifer. There is no escape, and there is no other way to destroy him."

"No!" Sam shouted. "That's not happening." Cas looked at Sam, to Jeffrey, and finally to Dean. If Sam didn't know that Cas was an angel, he would have thoguht a look of saddness descended upon his countenance.

"Sam. He's right." Cas conceded quietly.

"What?"

"Maybe he will survive, if Jeffrey stops before he is drained."

"Cas, do you know how much blood that would take? And look at Dean, the shape he's in! Not to mention we'd be letting this dick freaking suck down Dean's blood!"

"You didn't think it so distasteful a moment ago when it wasn't your brother." Sam stopped at that. It was true, and the words struck hard. He himself had brought the situation down upon them by calling out to Lucifer. Cas watched the emotions play out there dance on Sam's face.

"Dean would sacrifice himself in an instant to beat the devil. Its what he would want, Sam. And maybe this is what the prophecy meant that Dean would defeat Lucifer." Cas was trying to convince himself as much as Sam.

"There's no choice, Sam. I saw to it that your angel buddy wouldn't have enough juice to zap you all out of here." Jeffrey needled.

An impossible choice. Or was it even a choice, as Jeffrey pointed out so heartlessly? Lucifer would arrive at any moment, destroy Dean and Cas, and, less lamentably, Jeffrey. Or, he could allow Jeffrey to suck Dean dry and defeat the devil once and for all, but at such a cost?

**A/N: Ok lovely readers! I know what happens next, but I'm always open to ideas, and I was wondering what you all think should be Sam's "decision", or what do you think should happen? Who knows, you may influence the direction of this story! ;)**


	7. Chapter 7

The demon blood coursed through his veins, impeding his judgment. He could feel the rage and hate drowning out his guilt and distress. Castiel didn't want to make this decision. This was something only Sam or Dean could choose to sacrifice. But what could he do? Sam was incapable of making it in this state. Cas tapped Dean's face, attempting to rouse him-it felt strange resorting to physical contact, since he could not use his powers

The echo of scratching footsteps on the stairs above diverted Cas' efforts. Preparing for the worst, he stood guard in-between the door and Dean, wielding his blade. His eyes flashed with a new-found defiance as he took his stance. This bond with Dean not only awakened previously unexperienced feelings of friendship, but this final straw awoke in him a defiance against fate...a hint of free will.

As the door creaked open, Sam inched forward expectantly, attempting to contain the energy surging through him. The sight before them caused both Castiel's and Sam's mouths to drop in disbelief. What stood before them was not demon or angel, it was Chuck, the Prophet. Who was going to show up next? Chuck was the first to speak.

"Sam, Castiel." He acknowledged. Eyes flitting to Dean, he cringed and his eyes teared up. "I've already seen this...but...its one thing to see it, and another to actually _see_ it." Chuck was experiencing with all his senses what had occurred. He could smell blood and scorched skin. Dean lay still, the wounds on his bare chest were seemingly cauterized by the blast of light, puckering the skin into hideous burns raised above the surface of the skin.

"Quickly. Dean's amulet." Chuck said after he'd recovered from the sights and smells. Castiel looked down at Dean's neck, and was relieved to see the precious jewlery was still in place, though its cord was tinged red in places-courtesy of the vampire attack. Gently lifting Dean's head, the angel removed the necklace and handed it to Chuck, waiting expectantly for the Prophet's next move.

Chuck cupped the amulet in the palm of his hands, bowed his head, and lips moving, uttered a silent prayer. The amulet glowed red, and gave off an intense heat. Sam could feel it from yards away, yet Chuck gave no indication of pain. Gradually they all felt the heat turn to a warmth originating no longer from the amulet, but deep within them as it slowly spread throughout their bodies. In an instant they were transported from that place of pain and torture, and found themselves in a large field, sun shining brightly overhead.

"Where are we?" Sam asked in surprise.

"Where Lucifer cannot find us. We are hidden from his eyes." Chuck replied.

"Chuck, how did you...?" Sam began.

"Its not important. Just that God made me aware of current events, and what I needed to do."

Castiel walked over to where Dean laid in the grass, in the same position as he had been on the table, minus the restraints. Sam chided himself for not being the first to his brother's side. The demon blood dulled his conscience and his affections.

Castiel looked up at Chuck quizically. "You are unlike any prophet I have seen or heard of."

"I point the way. That is all." Sam and Cas shared confused glances. They were even more befuddled when he dissappeared into thin air. After the initial shock of the strange turn of events had dissipated, Cas studied Sam for a long time before saying,

"Sam? I have told you before how wrong it is to consume demon blood. Now I must warn you: the more you drink of it, the fouler you become. If you persist in this manner, if you so much as drink one more drop, you will no longer be Sam Winchester. Already it may be too late."

Sam gulped, his eyes widening in fright. Unbeknownst to the two, Dean's eyes had fluttered open, and his head shifted position. Cas strode back and knelt at his side, glancing back at Sam reproachfully.

"Cas..." Dean muttered, struggling to keep his eyes open. "Knew you would show up in the nick of time to save our asses." He grinned feebly. Cas responded with a smile that had become increasingly natural.

"Thank you for the vote of confidence. However, it is not me that you have to thank for your rescue."

"That right?" Dean asked quietly, though his eyes opened a little wider. "Did I miss something?"

**A/N: So this chap. opens up further questions and is meant to allow the plot to thicken...answers and action will ensue shortly...I promise! ;)**


	8. Chapter 8

"Did I misssomething?" Dean slurred.

Sam interrupted Cas's response, "We'll fill you in on the details later, Dean. Right now we need to figure out where we are and what to do."

Dean looked up at Sam questioningly. There was something off in the tone of his brother's voice, and it was strange that it was Castiel and not Sam at this side, but he wasn't going to make an issue out of it. Sam was right, though it wasn't like Sammy to say it so bluntly.

"I know where we are, and since Chuck brought us here, I guess by the power of God, His Presence is strong here, and my power will soon return and I will be able to transport us elsewhere. Until then, we are safe." Cas said.

"Great. So once you get your mojo back, you can fix me up, too then, right?" Dean encouraged hopefully. Castiel's eyes darkened.

"What?" Dean responded worriedly to Cas' mood.

"I'll have to see exactly what they did to you before I can determine a possible solution."

"Uh, huh….? And how are you gonna 'determine' that exactly?"

"It won't be pleasant, I warn you."

"k…well…do what you hafta do, I guess….I trust you." Dean said warily.

Rolling up his sleeve, kneeling next to Dean, Cas mentally prepared himself. Then he said to Sam, who had been strangely absent from the goings on,

"Sam, I will need your assistance to keep your brother still." Dean's eyes momentarily flashed with fear, before he braced himself for whatever was to come. Sam sat on the ground, holding the upper half of Dean's body in his lap, with his brother's head propped on his chest.

"Ok." Sam said. He almost seemed detached from the situation.

"Ok." Dean said in agreement moments later.

Castiel met Dean's eyes as he reached his arm into Dean's chest, holding their gaze and only closing them when Dean's pressed tightly closed as he screamed. Cas' expression looked pained as the sound met his ears, but he continued groping, searching.

Finally it was over. The angel removed his arm and stepped back giving Dean some space as he lie on the ground panting. Sam got up carelessly, allowing Dean's head to slam on the ground.

"So? What is it, Cas?" Sam's question was one of curiosity, not concern.

Castiel stood still as a stone, and his face seemed etched of the same material. After several minutes of silence, as Cas contemplated, he addressed Dean, who had somewhat recovered from his 'examination' by this time.

"No angel can heal what's been done to you, Dean. Its permanent. I will be able to remove the scars, but its more than your skin that has been marked by the ritual."

"Awesome! And what is it exactly that they did?"

"Its difficult to explain."

"Try me."

Silence.

"Ok, for starters, why don't you explain what you meant when you told Sam it might be too late for him? About how the demon blood changed him permanently? Yes, I heard." Through the haze of his demon blood high, Sam thought it typical that with all the things going on with himself, Dean still had that annoying nack of putting Sam and his problems on top priority.

"Like you said, we're safe here, so we got all the time in the world." Dean urged. Heaving a sigh, Castiel caved. He knew Dean needed to know the truth eventually.

"The more demon blood Sam consumes, the less human, and more demonic he becomes. Even now I fear the change is irreversible."

Dean looked desolately at Sam. He knew something was wrong, and that no good could possibly come from demon blood.

"But there's more, Dean. I didn't know the full extent of it until now, after this ritual was performed. You know that you and Sam are like two ends of the same coin, but you didn't know how far that analogy went. You see, you are different, as well, Dean. It has to do with you being Michael's vessel. Sam's blood is different because Azazel forcefully changed it by introducing demon blood into his system. You, however, have had angel blood in you since birth. It carried over from your father as a marker in your blood, and it bonded with your human genes. However, unlike Sam, the combinatin was not violent, and did not result in you having angelic powers. That is because the human portion of your makeup is predominant. Somehow, the human part surfaced, and the angelic stayed dormant. Even, now, after this ritual, you are still human. The ritual was meant to elicit the angelic markers and activate them so that you would produce an unlimited supply of human/angelic blood, the only formula Jeffrey could process, because though he is psychic, he is human and could not possibly metabolize pure angelic grace."

Dean blinked a few times consecutively, trying to absorb the ramifications of this revelation. Castiel paused in his explanations to make sure Dean was still with him, both physically and mentally, before laying on the big sucker punch.

""O...kay..." Dean cleared his throat and shook his head, trying to get his thoughts together in order of importance. "But what about Sammy? How do we fix him up? There must be a way."

"That is what I am trying to explain, Dean. Your blood is very powerful, and you have a unique connection to Sam, both in blood and in destiny."

The ramification of the statement slowly dawned on the brothers. Dean remained silent. But Sam voiced his thoughts,

"You can't be serious? You mean, like, if I drink...?" He couldn't finish the sentence.

"Yes, Sam. Your brother's blood would be compatible in your system, and yet the angelic portion would cancel out the demonic. If you want to be saved, you have to consume your brother's blood."


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Thanks again for the awesome reviews and alerts! they keep me moving on the parts of this story that are hard to write. Oh, and I must apologize if you find this chap. fuzzy or full of typos...Been living with insomnia, and my brain isn't firing on all cylinders. ;)**

"If you want to be saved, you have to consume your brother's blood."

The words pierced through Sam's frenzied brain, and touched a spot in his soul that was still 100% Sam.

"Alright, then." Dean conceded, his gaze downcast, but his look determined. Sam's breath hitched as he caught the sight. He knew that look. It bespoke an iron will and a manic determination to defend and sacrifice.

"No, Dean. We would completely be leaving the reservation. You cannot agree with this." Sam said, his voice quiet and steady.

Finally Dean looked up and met Sam's gaze. "I'm not sure we ever were on the reservation, Sammy."

Castiel interrupted the brothers, "Dean, I know this can save Sam, but the amount of blood required is too much. He would have to consume an amount of your blood equal to all the demon blood he has ever drunk. In addition, it would have to be consumed all at once in order to have effect. Even given the best circumstances, it would most likely kill you."

"Yeah, well, _most likely_ trumps _definitely_ demon Sam!" Dean countered, eyes flashing challengingly.

"Dean!" Sam objected. Dean got to his feet shakily.

"No, Sam. You don't have a say in this. You aren't yourself."

"I think I have a say in if I kill my brother or not, Dean! If I care enough to question it, then I can make the decision!" Dean studied his brother.

"Okay, Sam. So maybe you are still you, sort of. But we gotta do this, Sammy. It's the only way." The pleading look of desperation in Dean's eyes was overwhelming even to Sam In his state.

"Ok. Fine. We'll figure something out. But not now. You're in no shape to even attempt…." Sam didn't know how to finish.

"Sam is right. First we must get back and I must learn more about this before we attempt anything further."

"Yeah, and Bobby might have a thing or two to say about the matter." Sam included, glad that Castiel was on his side. Sometimes it seemed to him that Dean listened to the angel more than his own brother, but then again, maybe that was the demon blood talking. He didn't realize it until today, but when he was hopped up on demon blood, he couldn't stand being around Cas, and he flinched when the angel simultaneously touched the brothers and transported them to Bobby's.

* * *

><p>When the trio appeared in Bobby's kitchen, the landing was far from angelic due to complications: first, Sam was chock full of demon blood, second, the ritual had messed with Dean and his blood, and third, Castiel, only an hour or two ago had his mojo stripped away. Needless to say, that all amounted to a heavy landing...on the kitchen table, for Cas, who rolled unceremoniously onto the floor, Sam was sitting in the kitchen sink, and Dean...? Where was Dean?<p>

"Ah, man, Cas! Really?" Sam whined, but it was only partly banter. Mostly, it was actual irritation. Cas was very surprised to find himself in such an undignified heap, and quickly stood and regained his composure. Bobby just stood by the liquor cabinet, bewildered.

Sam was too pre-occupied with his negative sentiments toward Cas, and his wet and slightly soapy bottom to realize the abscence of his brother when Cas said,

"Dean?" If Bobby hadn't known Castiel's nature, he would have sworn he saw actual fear grip the angel.

"Ya idgits! How couldya have lost 'im mid-transit?" Then they heard a grunt and the sound of a chair sliding across the floor.

"I'm here! 'M fine.' All three pairs of eyes looked down to see Dean crawling out from under the table.

"Smooth, Cas. Think maybe you should get those fluffy whites checked out?" Dean drawled. Bobby hurried over and assisted Dean in extricating himself from his predicament.

* * *

><p>The rest of the day was spent explaining the recent events and discoveries to Bobby. It was quite a conversation: the angelic nature of Dean's blood, the ritual, Falcor and his sceme for icing the devil, and the mysterious Chuck. Finally, it could not be put off any longer...Sam's demon blood problem and the possible solution. Bobby's reaction was as expected, volatile. After he'd cooled some, he commented under his breath,<p>

"Brother suckin' down brother's blood, man...that's just a whole pile of nasty." Dean was getting fed up. He wanted to act on this new 'intel' as soon as possible. He wasn't one for waiting around for the devil to dish out the next course.

"Listen, the way I see it, the two options are having Sam back to normal, or icing the devil through Jeffrey, or if I survive one, than kill two birds with one stone." Dean iterated.

"What! You can't be serious Dean?"

"Listen to my voice and tell me if I'm serious." The hunter said, his eyes turning deadly. "Look, the only way we're gonna win this war is if we use what we got! And, apparently my blood is it. Frankly, I don't like the idea of someone using me as a freakin' faucet, either, but its all we got!"

"So you rebel against the destiny of Michael's vessel, but you bow before this destiny?" Castiel said, anger rising in his tone.

"NO! I'm choosin' this. I'm accepting what I am!"

Silence reigned in the ramshackle house, and Bobby met Dean's eyes. "That's bull. Its the same thing the angels have been after you to do."

"Whatever, this is different. I can't change what I am! Whether I like it or not, I'm different, and nothing's gonna change what runs in my veins. Whatdya want me to do? Huh? Ignore the fact that I'm the only one that can..." The implication of his statement dawned on him...was it all up to him? Why? How? Who did he think he was? God himself? After several moments of uninterrupted silence, Dean stalked out of the house and into the night.


	10. Chapter 10

In moments like these, one would think the world should seem big and intimidating, but right now Dean felt as though it were simple and straightforward. His friends and family had it wrong…he wasn't making a huge decision about destiny and providence…he just lived to do the best he could with what he had. It just so happened this time that involved the saving of the entire world and the sacrifice of his life for Sammy's in a very literal way. Why did Cas have to bring in the whole destiny vs. free-will crap? Such terms only served to bog down his mind. He was a man of action, not retrospection. In his gut he usually knew what to do and what was right. At the heart of the matter, it was saving Sammy and killing the big bad guys. No different than before. He wasn't trying to play God. If there is a God, then maybe this was His "mysterious way" (he couldn't believe he was even thinking that!) of helping…making Dean the way he was. That whole "big plan" was above his pay grade…he just had to stick to what he did best: protecting Sammy and hunting things. He'd been willing to spill his blood for these two things since he was 4 years old. Nothing had changed.

Dean had been milling about in the dark, traversing the maze of cars and wreckage in Bobby's back yard. A rustling sound jerked him out of his deep thoughts. It had come from behind the truck to his right. Like clockwork he pulled out his pearl-handled Colt .45. Little did he know his old faithful would prove useless against this foe.

* * *

><p>Inside the house, trouble was brewing. Castiel had only allowed time for his "batteries" to be recharged enough to send the boys home and heal Dean's wounds-although he could not replace the blood he had lost. That had not been in his power. Now the angel was exhausted.<p>

Sam was growing increasingly agitated by the angel's presence, and he knew that the effects of the demon blood were not going away.

"Why did you ever have to get involved? You saved Dean from hell to subject him to this?" Sam challenged the angel. Castiel looked up, seeing the way Sam's eyes were starting to darken into demonic hue.

"I did not make Dean this way. The only one capable of that would have to be much more powerful than I."

"Ever since you came on the scene things have gone from bad to worse!" Sam argued, logic escaping him, replaced by anger.

"I have done nothing but try to help."

"Yeah, well, a lot of good it did." Castiel was new to the whole "think for yourself and make your own choice thing," so the words bit hard. Self-reproach was always on the surface of his thoughts.

"That's enough, you idjits!" Bobby intervened, coming between the two before they came to blows-or whatever form of buffetting ensued between an angel and a man/demon.

Just then, before things got really ugly, the three men heard a gun fire.

"Dean!" All three said simultaneously. They rushed out of the house- hunters following the scent of the gunsmoke.

Soon they reached a corner of the junkyard where the smoke from the shot still clung to the air-in scent if not in sight.

There was no sign of Dean. However, there were signs of a vicious struggle. Several car windows were shattered and the moonlight glinted red off shards of glass littered across the ground.

* * *

><p>Dean had whipped out his pistol before he knew what was attacking. Jeffrey emerged from behind a truck, his hand raised to stop the bullet in its path.<p>

Bullets rendered useless, Dean charged the man, but before he could come into contact he was thrown aside and into the windshield of a car. Grunting, he hurriedly slid off the hood, only to be flung forward the instant his feet met the ground. The force with which he was thrown caused his body to somersault in midair, then his motion was abruptly halted by slamming upside down into a pile of stacked cars. His back flinched as a rear view mirror dug in below his shoulder blade, and finally he fell to the ground head first. Dazed and confused, Dean didn't notice when Falcor appeared on the scene until he saw the angel's finger, his vision doubling it into two, touching him on the forehead.

Dean found himself in a closed room with a familiar-looking table, complete with leather bindings. Falcor still had his finger outstretched and Dean grabbed at it with his hands, blood dripping off his fingers from slices incurred by the shards of glass he'd come into contact with.

At the touch of Dean's blood, Falcor's skin sizzled and smoked as the angel shouted and attempted to pull his hand away. Dean looked up, surprised, but maintained his grasp on the angel. Jeffrey stood to the side watching, stunned.

Suddenly Falcor's eyes turned black and his form changed to sulphurous smoke. Dean coughed and sputtered as the cloud came towards him and entered his mouth, forcing itself down his throat and into his chest. Dean fell to the floor, his eyes wide as he coughed, heaved and choked on the black smoke. Soon his eyes rolled back into his head and his body contorted and twisted as it seized in defiance at the demon's violation.


	11. Chapter 11

_Dean lay motionless on the filthy floor. His eyes were closed as if in death._

Sam opened his eyes and met the stares of Bobby and Cas. A vision. Of Dean dead.

"We have to hurry." Sam spit out through the ache in his gut. The vision was clearer than any he ever experienced, though unaccompanied by a headache, probably due to the demon blood-or was it something else drawing him to Dean? As much as he'd like to think the vision was due to his concern for his brother, he doubted it. Demon blood had no conscience. It was only drawn to its own kind, either demonic or psychic.

"But Cas doesn't have any way of tracking him, not since those enochian symbols were branded on his ribs." All minds flitted to a more recent branding, one which had been all too visible to the trio. The scars were gone, but the effect remained.

"Actually, there may be a way—not to track Dean, exactly, but if he were transported I might be able to find the path they took." Cas offered.

"Path?" Bobby asked incredulously. "Don't you goons just start on one side and appear on the other? Thought you didn't need a path?"

"We travel along roads unknown to man." Was Cas' feeble explanation. He then closed his eyes and seemed to inhale the air deeply. His eyes shot open.

"What is it, Cas?"

"I can follow the path to Dean, but I am concerned as to the nature of the thing that took him."

"Falcor." Sam provided. Realizing the angel had disappeared before Cas had arrived, he explained the presence of the angel throughout the horrific proceedings.

"What kind of angel perverts sacred rituals with demonic ones? I've never come across anything like this. We all must be on "high alert." Castiel used the unfamiliar term awkwardly, but accurately.

* * *

><p>Jeffrey watched as the spasms finally ceased and Dean's body went slack. He rushed over to his side, worried that both sources of his power were gone: Falcor, the "angel" who had touched him as an infant, starting his journey, and Dean, his blood the only hope he has to gain enough power to defeat Lucifer.<p>

"No, no no no no!" He shouted, shaking Dean furiously. A swoosh of air and Castiel, Sam and Bobby appeared. Jeffrey quickly backed away from Dean as Sam ran to to the comatose man.

"Dean! No, Dean, you can't do this..." Castiel strode over, keeping an accusatory eye on Jeffrey.

"Let me see him, Sam." The angel placed his palm on Dean's chest for a moment, trying to guage his condition. He then took Dean's head in his hand, and lifted his eyelids one by one only to see hazel eyes stare blankly back. The sight of Dean's absent stare unnerved Bobby, and his breath hitched and his eyes stung.

Suddenly the lights started flickering.

"Cas?" Sam asked.

"It's not me." Castiel answered, looking strangely at Dean. The ground started quaking beneath Dean's body, and a deep, abysmal groan rumbled out from his opening mouth as bright, red light shot out from his eyes, ears, nose and mouth.

"What...the...!" Bobby spouted.

"Stand back!" Castiel shouted.

Dean's back arched off the ground as the light intensified, and the rumble grew louder. Finally, the red glow seemed to separate from Dean and rise into the air. The groan from Dean gradually morphed into the hunter's actual voice, and it dissipated into a quiet moan and his body settled back on the floor, once again still. The red light changed into the form of Falcor once again. He was panting and leaning against the wall.

"What are you?" Jeffrey addressed Falcor. "You are no angel!" Falcor sniggered.

"Formerly of the heavenly host."

"So now you follow Lucifer? Then why did you want me to destroy him?"

"I follow no one! I rebelled with Lucifer, but that was only the start. How could Lucifer possibly trust those who had rebelled against God not to rebel against him? He came after all those who rebelled with him. And he wasn't wrong. We all wanted the power of hell for ourselves. We followed Lucifer's mantra "better to rule in hell than serve in heaven." We didn't want to serve in Hell, either. I'm one of the few real demons left. And now, Dean, thanks to your little trick with the blood, I have to admit I didn't see that one coming, you have dialed Satan's number once again by forcing me to show my true form. For millenia I hid beneath the guise of an angel. Now he will come for me, and you will have no choice but to destroy him for me, anyway."

Jeffrey was stunned and lost. Slowly he lifted up his head and looked at Dean, "I'm so sorry, Dean. I thought I was doing the right thing. Now it turns out I've just been a pawn." Dean couldn't help but look sympathetically on the young man. HIs situation reminded him of Sam being mis-led by Ruby and destroying Lilith, and consequently, breaking the final seal.

Meanwhile, Castiel looked on at Falcor, legitimately frightened. This "demon" was beyond his power to stop.

Jeffrey looked at Falcor, then continued, "But he's right. You know the only way to kill Lucifer is through me. I'm asking you, Dean. We can still make this something good."

Dean met Jeffrey's eyes, holding their gaze for a second before staring sternly at the wall, his mind threatening to crack under the pressure of the decision.

"You cannot seriously be considering this Dean? After everything?" Sam yelled.

"Sshhhh." Bobby instructed the younger brother, putting his hand on his shoulder.

"Sam, this is something only Dean can decide." Castiel interjected. Falcor chuckled under his breath. Everything was working out fine for him. He had just entered into Dean, and though he was unable to possess him, he knew what was inside him. A self-sacrificing, insecure man bent on making his life mean something. There was no way he would refuse this. He would be condemning the whole world to annihalation. Dean could not cope with the weight of those consequences on his head.

It seemed like an eternity before Dean blinked and he came outside of his thoughts.

"No." He said quietly, but firmly.

"What?" Jeffrey said incredulously.

"I said NO. No good can come from what Falcor did to you...with that much power...you'd become just like Lucifer."

"So that's your decision, then?" Jeffrey's voice rose to a fevered pitch. "In that case, I'll have to take what I need." The psychic threw Dean violently into the wall and stalked toward his prostrate form. Simultaneously Falcor moved to attack. Castiel hindered his approach, and the two began fighting furiously.

Sam pushed Jeffrey back. Bobby saw that Sam and Jeffrey were evenly matched, but that Cas was faltering. Shrugging, he picked up the ritual knife that had fallen to the floor in the confusion. Here goes, he thought, and he attempted to stab Falcor before he blasted Cas to kingdom come. with a slight nod from Falcor, Bobby was thrown across the room, the knife flying wildly. The Demon the renewed his efforts to eliminate Cas.

Dean slowly rose, blood streaming from his scalp over his temple. Boy, was he sick of being these psychic's and demons' puppet bouncing through the air. He staggered over to where the knife had fallen, and scraped it off the ground. He blinked a few times, trying to steady himself, and create a plan of action. He gouged the knife into the underside of his forearm, soaking it in his blood up to the hilt. Unbeknownst to the grappling figures, he took a few steps closer and plunged the blade into Falcor's heart.

"How's that for a heart-wrenching ending?" Dean gritted through his teeth. "What do you think of this sweet ass' pathetic _man, _now?"

Falcor backed away from Cas, stunned. Then he burst into rays of red light before falling in ashes at their feet.

**A.N: Thanks everyone for sticking with me this far, as well as newcomers, welcome! More is on its way, and the plot thickens! I'm sorry if I didn't respond to everyone who reviewed! Just know that your reviews make me write the next chap!**


	12. Chapter 12

**A.N.: Okay so I just realized that Supernatural is second to top in popularity on this site. Want to know who's first? Glee...okay, I love the music in the show, and watch it on occasion, however, storyline? Please, Supernatural is so well developed plot wise and character-wise, it shouldn't even be a contest on this site. There is so much room for creative outlet. So, you know how Misha has his minions? Well, I'm recruiting all who read this, whether you normally write or not, to at least write a one-shot on Supernatural...now I know...because I check statistics, that over 2000 people have read this fic, and guess what? 2000 is the number that will pass Glee up and make Supernatual number one! Let's do it Misha minions! Mwhahahah! (no offense to Glee fans! I just prefer Supernatural)**

* * *

><p>The victory was short lived. The room's atmosphere changed. They could see their breath as they shivered with cold and shuddered in dread. Castiel's eyes widened in terror as Lucifer appeared before them. As he approached them, water dripping from leaky pipes froze in midair and hit the ground with a crack-the noise echoing ominously throughout the basement.<p>

"Well, I see you boys already did the work for me. Pesky one, that Falcor. Been searching for him for centuries." Castiel fell to the floor, gasping. The veins on his forehead and neck bulging with strain.

"Oh, what is it, poor little Cassie? Not feeling so hot? Yes, well, common misconception: I burn cold, not hot. As an angel you may not be familiar with the nuance of physical feeling, but I've made it my study, and I find a certain poetry in human suffering. Intense cold causes the worst burn. Fascinating, really." Dean looked over at Castiel, wondering why he was so affected. Then he glared at Lucifer.

"What do you want, you son of a bitch?"

"Oh, Dean, if you're going to insult me do it right. I'm the first one. I'm the father of the sons of bitches."

"Well isn't that sweet. Then I guess that was your, what? brother we just wasted? I'm really feeling the familial love."

"You know, for battling me so hard, we seem to agree on almost everything…we both hated Falcor, we both think god did a crappy job. That's what I said when I fell. I can do it better. You, Dean are just a man, so why don't you leave that up to me, shall we? No need for you to take on the world. You are just a man, after all. "

"Just a man with angel juice. I took out your "buddy" Falcor. What's to stop me from doing the same to you?" He held out the knife to Lucifer's throat. Everyone in the room was struck by Dean's utter brazenness in the face of ultimate evil.

"HAhahaa! You think that will have any effect on me? I am Lucifer! Light bearer! Should have brushed up on your latin there, Dean. I was the most powerful of all angels. I am superior to all, even Michael. In heaven, I bore the light, or grace of all, and when I fell, I took it with me. That's why your angel friend here is groveling. I suck it right out of him. Its also why your god is absent…I took all the power and started my own creations…those things you've hunted throughout your life. So you see, they trapped me in Hell, but I also took the power of heaven. Now that I'm free, I will remake this world….I will destroy what my Father held higher than his angels…what he said he had made in his own image…you! humanity! 'Like god'? I say to you now what I said then, if god is like you, I will not serve! Your god is weak and frail like you. Why would any of you want to serve him? Look up to him? Even stranger, why would he care about you?"

"Oh, I dunno. Maybe he got sick of your personality, and made me: I'm so much more fun." Dean's mocking eyes squinted up into Lucifer's. If there was one thing the Father of Pride hated, it was being mocked. He grabbed Dean by the throat and squeezed.

"You dare mock me, human? You are pathetic, weak, needy. I see through the cracks right to your soul." Lucifer's eyes seemed to go dark, instead of light up like an angels. Dean could not tear his eyes away. It seemed as he looked, that Lucifer's eyes were dark abysses of nothingness, and he was falling into it. He was nothing.

The others looked on in despair, powerless. As they watched the scene before them, Dean's amulet began to glow. Amidst the cold blackness Dean felt a slight warmth, a ray of light enter him. Lucifer's gaze shifted to the glowing necklace, confusion darting across his face.

"What is this?" While maintaining his stranglehold with one hand, he grabbed the amulet with the other and ripped it from around Dean's neck, breaking the cord. The glowing light faded as Lucifer held it, and then threw it. It didn't reach the ground, however. As Dean followed its trail to the floor, it fell into a hand that had appeared.

Chuck.

"What are you doing here, prophet? No archangel will protect you from me."

"Don't need one." CHuck replied. As he held out the amulet it glowed brighter than ever before. Lucifer dropped Dean in his attempt to sheild his eyes. Chuck approached the devil and placed the amulet against Lucifer's chest-the red hot light bursting into flames at the contact. Both figures were consumed in an unbearable light and heat before Lucifer was gone. Dean looked up at Chuck and asked in wonder,

"Chuck, are you God?" Chuck smiled slightly, but shook his head. He staggered forward a step before faceplanting on the floor. Dean dragged himself across the floor to Chuck's side while Bobby and Sammy hurried over and turned Chuck over on his back. He was dead.

"Guess that would be a no." Bobby stated.


	13. Chapter 13

**A.N. Hello folks! Thanks so much for all the alerts, reviews and for those just reading! I'm really into this fic, and these characters really resonate for me, as hope they are for you in this story. On a side note, do any of you know why we have to wait 2 weeks for the Slice Girls episode? I don't think I can take it! LOL...good thing i have fanfiction.**

Tears welled up in Dean's eyes. Who else would they have to loose in this fight? The feeling gnawed at him that this fight could not be won, anyway. What were they fighting for? What did it matter? Dean gazed into Chuck's dead eyes-his own eyes a reflection of the deadness inside. He slammed his fist into the cement floor and fell the rest of the way to the ground in exhaustion, pain and despair. As Lucifer had forced his gaze on Dean, he realized there was nothing left inside of him to give.

Castiel had watched Dean in the moments following Chuck's arrival, and knew what was transpiring in his spirit. Addressing the room he stated,

"Chuck gave his life to save us, and disbanded the Devil temporarily. We must use this chance he gave us." He hoped to spark within Dean if not hope, then possibly loyalty. Dean continued to stare blankly at the ceiling. He just didn't care anymore. Let the world burn. What was he supposed to do about it? He was after all, just a man-a poor example of one at that.

Bobby and Sam looked on, not knowing what to do. Whatever Lucifer did to Dean, it had sucked away the modicum of life and hope Dean had left. Dean was always the fighter, the one who would never give an inch, not budge out of the path of free will. How wrong the demon had been when it told Dean with his father's voice that his family didn't need Dean the way he needed them. Dean had always been the rock. It wasn't what Dean felt or thought he believed about himself or existence that made a difference, it was what he DID.

"Leave me alone with him." Castiel said. And take "that" with you he added, pointing to Jeffrey, who was trembling in fear and shock. After they had left Castiel approached Dean, standing over him, he said, "Are you injured, Dean?" Wanting to dismiss everything and to be left alone, Dean responded,

"I'm fine." Castiel raised his eyebrows and said sternly,

"Then I suggest you get up." Dean met Cas' gaze for the first time. What the heck, he thought, it wasn't like the cold floor was that comfortable anyway. He sat up. Castiel decided he'd meet Dean halfway, so he knelt next to him. They were at eye level.

"We must plan for the next stage of action." Dean looked into Castiel's eyes. The angel's were so determined it startled him. It was the look he'd seen so often stare back at him from a mirror.

"I'm sorry, Cas, but it looks like I got you rooting for the losing team."

"If there's one thing I've learned from my time here, in this fight, its that...its not whether you win or lose..."

"But how you play the game?" Dean's eyes lit up with something akin to amusement, and possibly just a hint of hope. Castiel grabbed a hold of Dean's jacket and hoisted him up none to gently, but not too roughly.

"Now I'm going to take a page out of your playbook and tell you to get off your ass." Castiel said calmly, but in his eyes there was a flicker of fire.

Dean looked long into those eyes and found that he was coming to himself, that his brain was working again, that he wasn't dead...yet. Castiel was hoping for any response from Dean. Anything would be preferable to those dead eyes. He got what he asked for: a rise out of Dean.

"Why Cas? Why do I have to do it? Why is it up to me? Haven't I given enough? Huh? Why would your god create a world, let it go to Hell, literally and want me to do evil in order to save it? Because you know last time I checked, and as far as I'm concerned, making people drink blood isn't exactly what I'd call "good".

"I get there's evil in the world, he gave his creatures free will, which I guess I'm thankful for, but it sure can be a bitch, sometimes….but why do I have to pay the price, huh? Why does his grand plan have to involve me...why can't he just come down and smite these SOB's himself?" Dean was shouting and pacing at this point in his rant. Finally he ran out of breath, and stopped pacing, and breathing heavily looked up to Cas for an answer.

"What do you want me to say, Dean? that I understand? Well, I don't. I just know the man to start this is the one who has to finish it. You are the only one who can." Dean paused in his huffing and stared at Castiel, his eyes displayed a ballad: first they filled with pain then guilt, desperation, fear, doubt.

"I can't do this alone, Cas." Dean's voice cracked. Castiel approached Dean, put a firm hand on his shoulder and said,

"You won't have to."


	14. Chapter 14

Dean was glad Bobby and Sam were not in the room to witness the chick flick moment with Cas. Though, it wasn't exactly a chick flick moment. For once, he had been able to be honest with himself in front of another person. He couldn't have a break down in front of Sam. He couldn't possibly share his doubt and desperation with him because he was the big brother and had to be strong for Sammy. He couldn't have put up with Bobby's outburst if he had shared his doubts with the crotchety man. That would have sent him over the edge. He had never expected Castiel to step up to the plate. The conversation had reminded him of his father, but at the same time it was different. Castiel and Dean were on equal ground…and Cas spoke to him like a friend…it was a first for Dean, and exactly what he had needed.

The two walked out of the abandoned warehouse, recently residence of the King of Darkness.

After Cas dropped Jeffrey off at Bobby's in a "psychic safe room" the group gathered in a dumpy motel room. They had to rent out two rooms this time, seeing as there were four of them. Whereas it seemed natural for Sam and Dean to stay together as always, Dean realized he couldn't be around his brother at the moment. Sam was tripping on demon blood, and he couldn't bear to see his brother changing permanently before his own eyes. He needed a break from that, and as much as he hated to admit it, Cas was being great right about now, and he needed to be around someone with whom he didn't have to have is guard up. Also, he was planning on doing something 'stupid' that he knew only Cas would go for.

Later that night, Cas and Dean were seated on opposite beds. Castiel looked at the contraption confusedly.

"You do realize, Dean, that I do not require a 'bed' or to rest."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever Cas. We need to talk, like you said, about the next stage of action."

"I am glad to see you are 'back in the game' Dean, but whereas_ I_ do not require sleep, _you,_ on the other hand do. It has been an eventful day." Dean chuckled.

"Now that's the understatement of the century." Cas just looked up and blinked. The angel had come a long way towards understanding humanity and free-will, but he was still incredibly hazy as to the finer details of dialogic human interaction.

Deciding to switch the conversation to something he was fluent in, he began explaining the situation. Dean's ancestor was the first to spill blood, the first to taint humanity. Therefore an act of the opposite nature by a human of the same line must be done in order to restore balance. That's why God doesn't just come down and smite the devil. Because he made things a certain way and won't go against the nature of things. There is a nature to God, just as there is a nature to man, and to angels. When Dean did what he did in Hell, he followed in his ancestor's footsteps, but now has a chance to make it right.

Dean only half listened, then said,

"Dad told me that if I couldn't save Sammy, I'd have to kill him. I'm not killing him."

Trying to get Dean back on topic, Castiel diverted,

"Sam's no longer human. Only a human can restore the balance. So you see, it's not a battle of angels and demons on your territory. Your people let them in…they helped create the evil on this earth. " Seeming to follow Castiel's lead, Dean asks how Jeffrey could get enough blood before Dean died.

"I lied to you, Dean. The ritual made it so that you would produce so much blood so quickly that there would be a sufficient amount before you died. I didn't tell you before because I didn't want you to…..die." Castiel struggled with the foreign emotions. "But now I think it may be the only way. Are you considering following Jeffrey's plan?"

"Not exactly. I'm going to use what he did to me to save Sammy."

"How does that save the world? You have more responsibilities, dean! You're the only one. I cannot let you destroy yourself fruitlessly! There's more at stake here!"

"I was afraid you were gonna say that Cas. I don't blame you….you aren't human, you don't have a brother…." Dean pulled out his bloodied hand and it hovered over an enochian sigil, threatening to banish Cas.

"All I know is that I have to save my brother. I'm just a man…I cannot save the world, but I can do my job…take care of Sammy." He says aloud. "You have to trust me, Cas. This is the right thing…the only thing I can do…I'll do this with or without you…but I'd much rather do it with you." Dean's eyes softened.

"I can't, Dean." With a blast of light the angel was gone.

Dean then locked the doors and pulled the blinds and went to the bathtub and plugged the drain. He held the blade over his forearm doubtfully, thinking, " No one makes me do this..I'm doing this for Sammy…it's the right thing to do."

"For Sammy." He said aloud, and he sliced in. The blood came out frighteningly fast. He watched in awe as the white tub turned red.

His reserve was strong, but as his life drained from him he grew desolate. No one could stand by him in the final hour. Sammy betrayed him, though not intentionally: by succumbing to lust for the demon blood. Bobby would have nothing to do with the pain involved in sacrificing one boy for another, and Castiel couldn't understand the importance of the sacrifice of his life for one man. As all of this dawned on him he felt Lucifer's stare boring into his soul, filling him with emptiness and dread. He was alone, Lucifer taunted. That emptiness, that void in his soul…that was Lucifer…he knew it when he had looked into the Devil's eyes and saw his big black soul…it was a void in which nothing existed. Every good thought, hope and desire disappeared until there was nothing left but loneliness.

With his lasts reserves Dean addressed the form of Satan standing before him, "No! You are alone…and you are nothing….I have….Sammy…I do it for Sammy…" His voice dwindled, and the light went out of his half-closed eyes.


	15. Chapter 15

Castiel frantically hurried back—but it took time to escape the less than friendly former cronies he ran into. He reappeared in the locked motel room; noted the pulled blinds. Though the door was ajar, the angel could see denim clad legs stretched out by the tub. He approached the door uneasily. The hinges squeaked as he pushed it open.

"Oh, no…." He whispered sadly. His hands dropped to his sides helplessly as he saw the lake of red in the tub. He couldn't replace the blood.

Just then there was a banging at the door. Castiel was too absorbed by Dean's glazed, lifeless eyes to care. The door came crashing down as Sam kicked it in easily, followed by Bobby.

"Dean? What's up man, why didn't you answer the door?" He walked into the bathroom entrance and uttered brokenly, "Dean?" His eyes then turned to Cas in rage. "YOU! You made him do this!"

Sam's eyes went dark and he grabbed Castiel by the throat with demonic strength. The angel did nothing to defend himself. Dean had sacrificed himself completely to save Sam. Castiel didn't understand the worth of it, but he was not about to make Dean's death mean nothing.

Bobby had stared at Dean in shock for a few moments before realizing what was going on. He did everything he could to stop Sam. Tears fell down his cheeks silently as he pulled ineffectually on Sam's coat.

Castiel gasped, "Can't let him die for nothing, Sam."

DIE. DEAD. Dean had died for him….AGAIN. And this time it was completely his fault…he drank the demon blood….he did this to himself. Sam's eyes slowly turned brown as he released his death grip on the angel. He looked over at Dean, into his dead hazel eyes. He fell on his knees at his side. If he weren't half demon the act of drinking his brother's blood would have revolted him to no end. As is, he felt only the cold logic of Castiel's words. Afterwards, he cleaned himself at the sink, horrified at the sight of Dean's blood everywhere. Suddenly, a warmth flowed through him and he felt changed. Tears gushing as his throat constricted painfully, he cradled Dean in his arms.

"No, Dean….why?...'Cause its your job, right? And your my big brother….but what about you, you jerk?"

"I tried stopping him, Sam….I'm sorry. I tried looking out for him. That was my job…as…his friend. I failed." Only now did Cas understand the meaning of having a true friend. Now that it was too late.

"Uh, boys…I know it's a bad time and all, but, uh….look!" The amulet around Dean's neck glowed. Sam, he face close to Dean, backed away a little, feeling the heat radiating from it. His watery eyes widened, meeting the equally bulging eyes of Bobby and Cas. The heat and light became unbearable, and even Castiel fell to his knees and threw his arms over his eyes to shield them. As suddenly as it came, the light was gone. And so was Dean.

**A/N: Okay, I know this was a shorter chapter, but I'm building up to the end and I need to get all the details right for it to make sense, so bear with me! :) Also, am I losing you guys in this story? Do i need to work on something or did something throw you off? I've never written a story nearly this long before, so i could use the input! hint! ;)**


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: And here it is. The final installment of Vessel of Blood...drumroll...ok, maybe you're not _that_ excited, but I sure am! :)**

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><p>Dean found himself in a different place-in a different state. He put his hands on his chest. He could feel his body. It felt like his body. The place he was in…was just that, a place. It didn't seem to have walls, yet as he turned around he couldn't see beyond 20 feet in any direction. It just faded into grey. When he turned back, John and Mary Winchester stood before him.<p>

"Mom? Dad?" Dean couldn't believe it. He couldn't move it felt so unreal.

"Yes, Dean. We're here." Mary's voice and soft touch soothed so much of the confusion and anguish bottled up inside of him. He let out a breath held for years. He touched her hand as it caressed his face like she used to when he was a boy, and looked up into her eyes filled with love. Dean loved his brother, his father and Bobby immensely in his own way, but his mother was the only person he had ever been able to **receive** love from.

"Dean." His father's strong voice. Son met his father's gaze and saw in it all the strength, pride and affirmation he needed.

"Dad." No further words were needed. All confusion, conflict and bitterness disappeared.

"You can't stay, son." Always his father was the commander. Dean straightened. He was prepared to soldier on. He would do whatever his father asked of him.

"What am I supposed to do? I saved Sammy, Dad. I did what you told me."

"Yes you did, Son." John smiled with tender approval. "But it's not over. Your whole life has been in preparation for this. Everything. The people in your life, the events that shaped you. You had to be a fighter, Dean. You are special, but you are truly human. You fight for free will. "

"That doesn't sound much like free will to me, Dad."

"Just remember, Son, that freedom is an opting in, not an opting out….it is a participation in being itself."

At the befuddled look on Dean's face, Mary continued,

"Yet if there is free will in the world, then there will also be evil and pain because men do not always choose the good. But what would it mean if you had no choice but to obey your father? To love me? To protect Sammy?"

"How couldn't I, Mom?" Dean asked, confused. Mary smiled. Put that way, Dean understood.

"Well, that's how it should be, Dean. Unfortunately people go against their natures."

"Like the demons." John added knowingly. "It's up to you, Dean. You choose what you do. You saved Sammy. Will you now save the world? Will you save every man's son? Every man's brother? "

"I want I don't understand how I can do that. What can** I** do?"

"When the time comes, you will know."

"There's uh, just one little problem."

"What that, Dean?"

"I'm kinda dead."

Dean heard a sound he thought he would never hear again, and one he hadn't heard for what seemed a lifetime: His father's laugh.

"These are the end times, jumpstarted by the rebels." John looked up. "We don't have much longer. Everything is set in motion before its time. Beware the one who claims to be what he is not. Be not deceived by his apparent goodness, for he is a liar."

"What does that mean?" Why was his father being so cryptic? Where were his father's plain, straightforward commands?

"There is so much more I wish I had time to tell you, Dean, but I don't."

Dean started in surprise when he saw words being written on the wall behind his parents, burnt in a scrawling text:

"_Even my familiar friend in whom I trusted has lifted up his heel against me."_

After he read the mysterious and foreboding script, everything flashed and then faded around him, and he found himself on a deserted road. It was dusk—the beginning of darkness.

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><p><strong>AN: Okay you wonderful readers who have made it all the way to the end! Bless you! Now. Please tell me what you thought, and if you want this to continue. It is after all only the beginning. I have an Apocalypticfic in the works….**


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